Adjusting History
by edancer42
Summary: AU. Everything goes wrong during the final battle; Harry ends up miserable and alone. He takes a potion that brings him back in time, and he tries to change the fate of everyone he loves.  Can he succeed, or is fate too strong?  All pairings in canon.
1. Prologue

Harry James Potter sat at the kitchen table. He was alone, as he always was these days. The times of having friends, of love, of family, they were all over. They were gone with the war, slipping further and further away from him as everyone he knew died.

Oh, they had won the war. The Chosen One had killed Voldemort. Most days, he wondered, though: does anyone really win when everyone dies?

After all that, Harry didn't even want to live. He did anyway. Even on the anniversaries of their deaths, or on the days when he could barely even think beyond the pain of the losses. Because they would have wanted him to. And after all that had been sacrificed for him to live, he couldn't just throw that away.

He ran through it all again in his mind.

Lily and James Potter, his parents, hit with Killing Curses when he turned one. The deaths that started it all; killed for a stupid prophecy, murdered while defending their son.

Cedric Diggory, hit by a Killing Curse just because he was there during fourth year. It was Harry's first taste of seeing death, and it had given him nightmares for months.

Sirius Black, through the veil in fifth year, trying to get Harry out of the bowels of the ministry. At that time, Harry's only real family.

Albus Dumbledore, fallen by Snape's hand on the tower at the end of sixth year. Harry's mentor, the infallible symbol of light in a mass of grey and the final death before the Final Battle. Fitting, Harry supposed.

And on to the Final Battle:

Luna Lovegood, hit by a wayward Sectumsepra. This particular death had made Harry disgusted every time he saw a knife, and it had been by far the bloodiest murder of his friends. Thinking of it made him cringe.

Neville Longbottom, fallen to a Killing Curse. Bellatrix Lestrange had finally managed to do what she had always wanted: finish the complete destruction of the family.

Fred, George, and Bill Weasley caught in Fiendfyre. Harry hated lighting fires for that reason.

Hermione Granger, one of his best friends, with the same curse that she had been hit with at the Ministry, but this time spoken aloud, making it so much more deadly. Harry had not even wanted to go on after this death, but he had known he would have to.

Mr. Weasley, and his sons Charlie and Percy Weasley, by giants outside the school. Nasty deaths, leaving him with only 2 remaining members to the only real family he had ever been a part of.

Remus and Tonks Lupin, who had fallen together while battling Death Eaters. The final Marauder, and his wife, who was pregnant at the time.

Mrs. Weasley, who brought about the end of Bellatrix Lestrange, died from Voldemort himself in the next second. She was the closest person to a mother Harry would ever know.

Ron Weasley, his best mate, sacrificing himself while killing Nagini, who had to bleed out slowly from the snake bites. He hadn't really been able to go on after Hermione's death.

And finally, Ginny Weasley. The love of his life. He wished she could be with him every single day of his miserable life. Voldemort hit her with a Killing Curse too.

It had been the last straw for Harry, and Voldemort had fallen by his wand soon after.

Even after he was dead, the wounds left by Voldemort would never heal. Harry dreamed every day of how he might do it over again, if he only had the chance. Maybe some of them could have lived. Even if no one else could… Maybe Ginny might have. He dreamed of that world. It was all that got him through most days.

With everything lost, it felt as though the time had practically stopped, and each second dragged into minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. And slowly, the years had passed.

**ooooooooooooooooo**

On Harry's 30th birthday, he had awoken in the House of Black with presents, just as he got every year.

Stupid fans sent all sorts of things to their Wizarding Savior. It was ridiculous. He looked through them, just because he had nothing better to do. Most of them he would never deign to open, but he did appreciate that they thought of him, even if he scoffed at the whole thing.

Most of them were books, because clearly creativity should not be wasted on such things as gifts. Some were potion ingredients, money, wand holsters, luggage, cauldrons, and other assorted magical products that could easily be bought in Diagon Ally.

One of these presents stood out; it was rather unusual. It was a potion bottle, with a tag attached_: In the hopes that you can change the miserable state of things by drinking this._

Harry took off the wrapping paper, as it had successfully sparked his curiosity. A rare feat, as most days he didn't feel curious. Just tired.

Inside the bottle was a highly unusual looking potion. It was a bright silver, with slight bubbling. He took off the cap and took a small sniff. It was odorless.

And as much as he knew he shouldn't, he had this strange desire to down the bottle. It was unexplainable, but he felt that the potion was benign, and might perhaps help him.

What did he have to lose, after all? Surely not his family and friends. Not a warm home. Not happiness.

So why not?

"Bottoms up," he whispered to himself.

He swallowed the little potion in one gulp, and felt the strangest sensation all throughout his body….It was as if every cell in his body was tingling.

His mind was consumed by darkness.


	2. CH1: A New Beginning

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

_Disclaimer: If I owned this, I would be rich. I am not rich in the least. Thus, I don't own any of these characters._

_I will occasionally include direct quotes, but that will happen less and less as the story progresses._

_This is the disclaimer for the entire story. Just so you know._

Harry awoke in a small and dark space. He looked around, pausing to brush a spider out of his hair. He felt…scrawny. And _why_ was there a spider in his hair?

With a jolt, he realized he was back to his 11-year-old self at the Dursleys. He could hear Dudley, stomping on the stairs above him. He hadn't seen the Dursleys since before what would have been his 7th year, if he hadn't gone off to hunt Horcruxes. It had turned out Dudley did, in fact, have feelings. A strange concept. He had since learned that Aunt Petunia had began hating wizards the minute she realized she couldn't be one. All of her horrendous acts had been out of jealousy, apparently. He wondered what day it was, and supposed there was only one way to find out.

He gently brushed the spider out of his hair, and quietly opened the door of his cupboard, peeking to see if anyone else was in the hallway. There was no one in sight, so he clambered out of the cupboard, and his legs breathed a sigh of relief when he stretched them.

He plodded into the kitchen and made some bacon for the family, using just enough of his wandless magic to not scare the Dursleys but still get the job done. _Wandless magic was one of the best things I could have learned,_ he reflected.

He had taught himself so much in the endless hours after the deaths of his entire world, because he had thought it might in some way ease the pain.

It hadn't.

Now, however, he was an Animagus, could do wandless magic, and was probably just as able to teach every subject at Hogwarts as his real teachers. Not that anyone could know this.

During the mindless task of making breakfast he remembered all the times he had dreamed of going back and changing it all. He would begin changing things as soon as he could. He had no desire to repeat the last history.

When he brought the bacon to Uncle Vernon, he saw that it was, in fact, his 11th birthday, according to the date on the newspaper. He felt a flare of excitement; his Hogwarts letter would be here!

"Get the mail, Harry." Uncle Vernon all but growled at him. Clearly, he was not in a very good mood.

Just as last time, three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from his horrific Aunt Marge, who he had accidentally blown up the last time he had seen her, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and his Hogwarts letter. He looked at it fondly. _It's just beginning_, he thought to himself.

"Here you go," he said happily to Uncle Vernon. "My Hogwarts letter came today."

He didn't really care if he wasn't supposed to know, he was too thrilled at this chance to relive his life. Besides, in all honesty, he was looking forward to their reactions.

As expected, these five words created chaos in the household. Uncle Vernon spat out his mouthful of eggs, and yelled, "Not in my house!" Aunt Petunia gasped and tried to snatch it away from him. Harry wordlessly cast a Shield Charm, which wasn't quite as strong as it would be with a wand, but it still kept his relatives at bay. Dudley sat in the background, looking even more confused than normal. After a minute or so of thinking, he gave up and went back to his breakfast.

Harry completely ignored their reactions. "I was thinking I'd stop by London later today and get all of my things for school. I can send a reply then. Hopefully you don't mind." He smiled at them, and they both spluttered indignantly. He continued, "I can get myself there and back, no worries."

"How do you even know about Hogwarts?" asked Aunt Petunia. "We never told you anything…"

In the background, Harry saw Dudley look up again, finally muttering, "What the hell is Hogwarts?" Thankfully his mum hadn't heard him swear, as she was too focused on Harry, who chuckled.

"I can do magic, Aunt Petunia. Did you really just ask that?" This comment was met with general silence.

Harry continued to eat breakfast as if nothing was wrong, and the Dursleys couldn't believe their ears. What had happened?

**ooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Precisely an half-hour later, Harry Apparated just outside The Leaky Cauldron.

He walked in to the tiny pub, and went through so quietly that no one even noticed him. No big scene like last time, thank goodness. He tapped the bricks and entered Diagon Alley.

He gasped, feeling as if all the air had been pulled out of his lungs. The splendor and the magic was untarnished at this point in time. It was magnificent and complete, just as it had been before the war. Harry forgot how much he had missed it!

He walked forward slowly, taking in his surroundings. He didn't want to attract attention, but at the same time he wanted to absorb everything Diagon Alley had to offer. He headed toward Gringotts, its white marble drawing his eye instantly. He nodded respectfully to the goblin at the entrance, and walked through the first set of bronze doors. The second set of doors was a gleaming silver, with the poem warning a person not to steal. He glanced at it with a smile, thinking how ironic it was considering he had stolen from it in his past life. He knew he would have to pull off the feat a second time, and wondered how it would work out this time.

He strolled up to the counter and saw his old friend Griphook, who wouldn't recognize him. Pity, it would be nice to have a goblin ally this early.

"Good morning, Griphook. My name is Harry Potter, and I would like to visit my vault. Also, at your convenience, I would like to set up a meeting with whoever is in charge of my account to discuss my finances."

Griphook looked taken aback to be spoken to by name, and so directly. However, he recovered well.

"Do you have your key, Mr. Potter?" he asked, quite professional in his manner.

"Unfortunately, I do not. I have been living in the Muggle world for the last 11 years."

The goblin pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. He then asked Harry to sign his name and poured a potion over. The ink turned green for a brief moment and changed back to black.

"Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Potter. We will send you a letter with a date and time for your meeting. Please accompany me to your vault." He walked out from behind the counter, and as an afterthought, added, "Mr. Potter, may I enquire how you knew my name?"

Harry smiled. "Griphook, the time will come for you to know, but at the moment I believe that knowledge would do more harm than good in the wrong hands."

Griphook looked at him suspiciously and muttered under his breath that he should stop being curious about the affairs of humans, they clearly weren't worth the brain power.

Harry ignored the snide comments and got his money out of his vault. There was nothing unusual about this trip to Gringotts, which was nice for a change. In Harry's past, after they had broken in it had taken hours to get gold from their normal vaults simply from the lack of trust between themselves and the Gringotts goblins.

When they got back up to the surface, Harry stopped to say, "Griphook, it was a pleasure to work with you today, and I hope that this can continue in the future."

Griphook looked as though he doubted this, but he refrained from adding anything. The two went their separate ways; Harry walked back through the doors to the sunlit street. It was time to get his school supplies.

**ooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

He headed for Madame Malkin's first. Alas, even in this life he ended up with Draco Malfoy. Just his luck.

"Hello," said Malfoy, who actually sounded interested in Harry. Harry knew he would get over that very quickly. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Definitely," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said Malfoy. Harry had the distinct impression he had already heard this speech, word for word. Malfoy continued, "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have you got your own broom?"

"Not yet," said Harry, thinking he would really have to remedy that situation. He'd have to see if he could manage to be the Seeker again this year…

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Yep. Seeker." Harry said curtly. He never had like Malfoy. Even in the Final Battle, his family's loyalties had vacillated based on who appeared to have more power.

"Interesting." Harry knew he thought it was anything but. Malfoy continued, "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"Definitely Gryffindor." said Harry firmly, enjoying the look of annoyance on Malfoy's face

"Really? That house of idiots? I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — and it's much better than those lousy lions! But each to their own, I suppose…Say, what's your surname?" Malfoy finally asked the question Harry had been waiting for.

"Potter. Harry Potter." Harry almost smirked at the look on Malfoy's face.

At that point, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry smiled at Malfoy. "Good bye! I'm sure I'll see you at school." And he walked out to get his other supplies.

He had gotten his books and most of his other equipment already when he looked up and saw Eeylops Owl Emporium, where he had gotten Hedwig. He looked at all of the owls before seeing her in the corner. He walked right toward her, and she hooted softly at him.

"Hedwig, girl. I've missed you."

**ooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

He went to Ollivander's last. He wondered if anything weird would happen… he still had his wand from the future, and he didn't know if that could change anything.

Just as before, Ollivander seemed to appear out of nowhere. This time, however, Harry was prepared and didn't jump six feet into the air.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Harry realized this was the exact same speech he had been given the first time, and tried his best to look interested.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come closer to Harry, who thought bitterly that it was to gawk at him better.

"And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

_Not as powerful as the elder wand,_ Harry thought wryly. He wondered when they would start trying out wands.

"Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled his magical tape measure out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"My right arm," said Harry firmly.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He did the usual measurements and gave Harry the basic talk about Ollivander wands.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

He paused, and Harry took the opportunity to intercede. He had no intentions of trying every wand in the store once again, so he asked if he could try something. Ollivander assented, and Harry held out his hands and focused on his wand coming to him. He closed his eyes, and added just a touch of magic to the command. When his eyes opened, he saw the box floating towards him; Ollivander had a look of astonishment on his face.

"Mr. Potter… How did you do that?"

"I just concentrated on asking what wand was mine. This one answered the call." He shrugged, putting on an air of indifference. "Thanks, Mr. Ollivander!" He deposited 7 Galleons on the counter, and left the store cheerfully, ignoring Ollivander's gaping mouth.

He couldn't wait for school to start.


End file.
